Chapter Thirty-Two
I read the message with growing astonishment.
Hi Maggie
I hope you don’t mind me messaging you. Terry gave me your number. It was both unexpected and lovely to see you earlier. I was looking forward to talking to you properly, after the ceremony. However, upon seeking you out, you’d vanished. It’s due to rain tomorrow, so I won’t suggest meeting up for a dog walk. Rather, can I take you out for Sunday lunch?
Dylan x
Oh my goodness. Oh-my-oh-my-oh-my goodness. But what about Jemima? How did she figure in all this? Or would she be coming along too? In which case, no thanks. I wasn’t up for an altercation over the roast beef.
‘Greg?’ I said aloud. ‘Did you arrange for Dylan to message me?’
Silence.
Oh, don’t be so silly, Maggie. It’s just a coincidence. Nothing more, nothing less.
Meanwhile, what to say to Dylan?
Me:Yes, please!
Dylan: Yayyy (or however a 53-year-old man might respond)
Me: However, a small matter to clear up first.
Dylan: Oh?
Me: Who is Jemima?
Dylan: An old bat who gate-crashed my daughter’s wedding.
Me: Excellent news xxxxxxxxxxx
But if I accepted this invitation, where would we go? No way was I stepping into The Angel to have the likes of Mabel Plaistow giving her tuppence worth. No, it would have to be somewhere far away from Little Waterlow.
However, I really did need to know who Jemima was. No way was I up for accepting this invite if Dylan was romantically involved with someone else.
I tapped the screen.
Hi there, Dylan
Yes, I slipped away while you were talking to your psychotic looking girlfriend–
I immediately hit the backspace key. Tried again.
Yes, I slipped away while you were talking to the lady who was clinging to you like poison ivy strangling a rose… backspace, backspace…
Yes, I slipped away due to you being otherwise engaged with a woman who I suspect is a possessive, proprietorial, condescending, self-satisfied, smirking… backspace, backspace, backspace, backspace, backspace…
God, how hard could this be?
Hi there, Dylan
I’d love to go for lunch but who is Jemima Khan–
SHIT!
Instead of some agitated stabbing on the backspace key, I’d inadvertently hit the send button. I stared at the screen in horror. But… wait… Autocorrect had changed my message.
Hi there, Dylan
I’d love to go for lunch but who is Jemima Puddleduck
Oh brilliant. The guy would think me barking. Quick, think, Maggie.
Hurriedly, I typed a second message.
Sorry.Predictive text.Ha!Meant to say:
My finger froze and hovered over the phone’s keyboard. Hang on. There was something I’d forgotten all about. I’d invited the kids and their partners over tomorrow for Sunday dinner. They were going to meet Bess. With a sinking heart, I finished the message.
I’d love to go for lunch but have the family coming over for Sunday dinner. They’re meeting Bess x
Dylan responded immediately.
What about early brunch and a cheeky Prosecco? x
I didn’t hesitate.
Sounds good to me! x
His next text was immediate.
Wonderful – it’s a date! x
I momentarily hugged the phone with delight. Stuff Jemima bloody Khan-cum-Puddleduck. I’d ask Dylan who this wretched woman was when I saw him, face to face.